


THEY ONLY AGREE TO HOLD YOUR HANDS

by jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Ereri, i'll crush your tiny hearts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle/pseuds/jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin had known him once. And lost him...he had seen it. Over and over. All he wanted was to forget, but no matter what he had done, those words would never stop haunting him. "I'll find you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	THEY ONLY AGREE TO HOLD YOUR HANDS

**Author's Note:**

> for jearmin week. "Accident" and "Lost Together" prompts...okay it barely fits the prompts so you get the story now
> 
> [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCP0Pal_ZUc) was like the entire inspiration for this thing okay

Offer up your hearts.

Dedicate your lives, your deaths, to the cause.

It was a vow they had all made, and one they had meant. Armin Arlert more than anyone. He had known from the beginning what that meant, had known that sacrifices would have to be made to make a change. That friends, brothers, comrades, and lovers would die. The ends justified the means.

But this? He had never been ready for this.

“Jean…”

Everything slowed as he felt his body being thrown out of the way, eyes watching the brunet fly through the air, twisting in a way that was clearly meant to mimic their captain. It was terrifying, the way he would just barely slip through the fingers of the Titan. Terrifying, and beautiful. It was effortless, the way he spun through the air, blades slicing through the Titans neck, blood spraying in a mist and showering Jean.

Armin watched as the brunet let his momentum carry him through the air. Something wasn’t right. Jean was a master at the gear, he knew how to use as little gas as possible and when to let his body carry him. Even with a severe lack of trees, he would be able to do something as simple as land after a kill.

His angle was wrong, Armin knew, he had studied it enough to know. He wasn’t as good as Jean or Mikasa or the Captain, but he was still good enough to have made it this far. He had fought alongside them, and he _knew_ something was wrong.

_He’s falling too fast…And the angle’s not right._

“Jean!” He pushed to his feet, pushing into a sprint. His stomach jumped into his throat as he watched the brunet hit the ground. Hard. “Jean! Shit, Jean!”

Armin’s legs shook, giving out as he collapsed beside Jean. His hands trembled and he did his best to tell himself it was just adrenaline. And Jean was just tired? Swallowing hard, he rolled the brunet onto his back, pulling him into his lap. His head lulled, thumping hard against his chest.

“Jean…Jean, wake up…” Armin could feel his throat tightening, eyes burning with tears he wasn’t ready to shed just yet. His long fingers brushed over Jean’s cheek, smearing the blood that was quickly evaporating.

_It’s just Titan blood…just Titan blood…He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s always fine. He can’t die._

A groan pulled Armin from his thoughts, blue eyes snapping to attention. “Jean?”

“Armin?” The brunet’s voice was hoarse, his breath catching in his throat as an unmistakably wet cough pushed from his lips.

“I’m here, Jean. I’m right here.” He smiled, fingers desperately brushing over his skin, into his hair. The tears overflowed, slipping freely down his cheeks as he tried to smile and pretend it was really going to be okay. “Right here…”

“You’re—” He winced, body tightening involuntarily as he gasped out breath, the pain overwhelming. “You’re safe?” Gold eyes turned to Armin’s, worried that he had been too late, worried that he had fucked up again.

Strong, trembling hands cupped the blond’s cheek, warm and wet and sticky against his skin. It was all Armin could do to bite his lip and push down the sob that was threatening to break free. The Titan blood had long since evaporated.

“Yes, Jean, I’m safe,” He pressed his hand to Jean’s, pushing it tighter to his cheek. “I’m safe because of you.” He swallowed hard, hearing his voice quiver with his next words. “You saved me.”

_In so many ways._

Jean smiled, his pupils slowly beginning to dilate and the lucidity starting to fade from them. “I’m glad. I…I could never forgive myself…”

Armin’s fingers closed around Jean’s hand, holding it tight and pulling him further into his body, curling his body around him. He could feel the warm blood seeping into his pants, feel the unnatural way Jean’s body seemed to give against his legs. When had he been bitten?

“Jean—stay with me, Jean! Please, Jean!” He squeezed his fingers, not even trying to stop the tears anymore.

His entire body trembled and ached. His stomach churned and his lungs seemed to give out. His body was hot and all he wanted to do was scream or throw up or both. It didn’t matter that it was illogical or wouldn’t help. This is where logical had led him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, his entire world was bleeding out in his arms.

“Jean..?” Armin’s voice wavered and cracked, fractured with tears. He could see his breathing slowing, feel the blood pulsing out less and less, see his eyes struggling to focus. They never left him, not once. As if the last thing Jean wanted to see was Armin himself.

Swallowing hard, he pulled Jean’s fingers to his lips. Those hands that had saved him. That had taken his own. Taught him it was okay to love, it was okay to feel and want and be irrational. Taught him how important it was to value the little things, that people weren’t just pawns on a chessboard. Those hands that had loved him, gently touched every part of his body.

Hands that had left him trembling and made him forget everything they’d gone through. Hands that had trembled the first time they had touched him, that were so scared to feel again. Hands that were always reaching out for him, gently brushing his fingers or his lips. Hands that would always remind him that he was important, that he was worth everything in the world to someone. Hands that had saved him.

His lips gently pressed against Jean’s knuckle, moving to press a kiss to his fingers. Armin turned the hand in his, pressing Jean’s palm to his mouth. It was overwhelming, the warmth, the scent of Jean, the scent of blood. It was too much.

“Jean…” He pressed his folded fingers to his forehead, lips trembling and voice wavering, leaving him to wonder how he could have so many tears. “I love you, Jean. I love you so much. Please…please don’t leave me.”

He pulled his fingers to his lips again, tears slipping down his cheeks onto the bloody fingers as his lips pressed against a small cobalt ring on his third finger. Armin had one just like it, one that Jean had made himself. He had been so scared when Jean had given it to him, had asked him to be his forever.

He couldn’t help but be terrified, it was dangerous to love. Dangerous to promise forever when forever was something none of them had. And yet he had. Those gold eyes had looked at him and those warm hands had held his and nothing in his being was able to say no. He already loved him forever, how could he not say yes?

“Weren’t—” Armin swallowed hard, choking down a sob. He wished so desperately he could pretend to be happy for him in this moment, that he could give Jean an expression worth remembering. But all he could feel was his world crashing around him and knowing that he would never get it back. “We were supposed to be together forever…”

Jean smiled up at him, a real, lucid, genuine smile. The color was leaving his face, and even the simplest of words were an effort for him, but he was smiling. Armin knew he had to be in excruciating pain. But he was smiling. Why was he smiling!?

“Armin,” His fingers moved to cup the blond’s cheek again, body tensing as he fought down a painful, bloody cough, refusing to let it reach his lips. “I’ll find you, again.”

“Jean?” His voice was nothing more than a pathetic squeak.

“I’ll find you. I promise.”

“Jean, no! Don’t go! Jean!” Armin panicked, mind reeling as he pushed his lips against Jean’s. The kiss was hard and desperate, as if the blond hoped all those stories about true love’s kiss were real and the brunet’s eyes would flutter open and they would be happily ever after. He let his lips linger, even after Jean’s no longer pushed back, those fingers no longer tight around his own.

Armin pulled back to see eyes staring at nothing, void of life. Trembling fingers reached to close them, moving to brush against blood tinged lips. He gripped Jean’s fingers tight, smiling softly, contentedly. He kissed his fingers again, wet lashes fluttering closed.

“I’ll be there soon.”

* * *

A gasp filled the silence, the darkness, his eyes snapping open and a familiar wetness stained his cheeks and his pillow. He wasn’t surprised to see his hand opening and stretching out, desperately reaching for something. For someone.

His breath panted in his chest, a chill running down his spine as he pulled his knees toward his chest. It wasn’t the first time he had woken this way. Or the first time he had had that dream. It had followed him, haunted him his entire life. It was terrifying at first, a child dreaming of these things.

When he’d first drawn it, his mother, dear thing she was, had cried to his father. He didn’t understand what he had done wrong. He was scared, and the man with the glasses that was his father assured her it would pass. When it didn’t, he sent him to therapy. He was a doctor, after all, he didn’t believe in things like visions or past lives. He believed in science and clear, tangible proof. And he worried for his son.

Armin had always been smaller than the other two, frail. He grew out of it, but it had made his parents worry. Perhaps, the blond mused, that’s why his dad had thought there was something wrong with his mind. After years and years of therapy, medicines that made his mind numb and his words lazy, medicines that took down that last wall that kept him from hurting himself, he had learned to hide it.

He hid it well. He learned how to hide his emotions, how to lie without even trying, how to fake a smile, and where to keep his ‘safety blanket.’ If they didn’t see it, they didn’t question it.

“Jean again?”

Armin flinched as a warm, dark arm wrapped around his body, a shirtless torso pressing to his just as shirtless back. It wasn’t surprising, really. Eren had long ago taken to slipping into his bed when the blond was having nightmares. It was something that had started when they were kids and they had never outgrown it.

Eren had always been the stronger one, passionate, forthcoming, nothing could ever stop him. Except maybe his short temper. He was tall, naturally-tanned and well-muscled, his hair thick and not-quite brown, eyes the most beautiful shade of Caribbean green Armin had ever seen.

The complete opposite of himself, with his gold hair, big blue eyes, peach skin, and smaller frame; his personality was kind, he was brilliant – maybe too brilliant considering the fights it caused – he excelled in studies, especially literature and psychology. He could admit he was a talented writer and had accidentally found himself oddly talented with metal sculpting.

He was in no way weak, not anymore, but it was still a little mind-boggling to him that they were twins. Fraternal, sure, but twins nonetheless.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Armin patted his hand, pressing his head back into his pillow. Eren had always known when he was having a nightmare, even if he was asleep and nowhere near him. He had always assumed it was a twin thing.

Really, it had been Eren that had gotten him through it all, convinced him he wasn’t crazy. That maybe it was something else. It had taken years before the brunet had admitted that he had dreams, too. Snippets of monsters and wings and a strong back that stood over him and steel blue eyes that were filled with so much pain as they looked at him.

Armin had punched him in the mouth for it. Eren never faulted him, he actually laughed a little. He deserved it, letting the blond think for all that time that he was crazy. Letting him go through all that alone. Of course, after that he had hugged his brother, crying because he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t losing his mind. But most of all crying because that meant it was _real_.  And no one else remembered.

They had talked to their older sister, Mikasa, about it. She only shrugged and shook her head. She may not have remembered, but she loved them and would protect them. It had been that way since they were children. Mikasa would always protect them, and kick the ass of anyone who tried to touch them. Apparently, even in the orphanage she had tried to keep Grisha from holding the infant twins.

Armin sighed, sliding out from under the warm arm and moving to the side of the bed. He reached over to grab his phone. 7:00 PM. How long had he been asleep? A few hours? A day? He turned to see Eren propped up on his elbow, worry in his green eyes. So he hadn’t woken him, he must’ve been loud enough to tear him away from whatever show or game he was busy with.

“Are you still coming?”

There was worry in Eren’s voice, worry that made Armin smile. He was always so worried, he cared so much. He understood, better than anyone. He nodded slowly, turning away from his brother.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.” It was the truth, too. He had been looking forward to this for awhile. He would get to see Mikasa again, she didn’t live too far away but had stopped coming to visit every day. She didn’t need to, Armin had Eren and Eren had Armin and if there was something they couldn’t handle she knew they’d call. Armin never had the heart to call, really. She was happy, happy enough that she took the risk of moving in with the tall, freckled man she’d fallen for.

Armin pushed to his feet, doing his best to take a quick shower and get dressed. It was going to be cold, of course, just enough for the flakes to keep falling. But he had never quite been able to force himself to wear some big fluffy coat. It made him feel like a penguin.

He took a deep breath as he look at himself in the mirror, damp hair slicked down to his shoulders. He tried to smile, then again, and again. It was so difficult sometimes. How could he smile when every day, every night, he felt like his heart was being torn from his chest? How could he smile when he just didn’t care anymore, and yet he cared about everything?

Sometimes he thought if he ever did find this person, he’d punch him harder than he had Eren. How dare he make him live like this, with this depression and anxiety and this constant struggle to breathe and the need to watch every word that came out of his mouth for fear that if someone figured it out they’d send him away.

He shook his head, actually smiling at little at the thought. _No._ “Tonight is a good night.” It took effort to make himself actually dress like he cared, but it was an effort he made for his siblings.

Once he set his mind to it, it didn’t take long to pull on a pair of skinny jeans, slipping a pair of boots over them. He tugged on a white sweater, fitting to his lean muscle, and covering most of his hands. He had long ago stopped caring that compared to his brother he looked feminine, instead embracing it. By the time he outgrew it, he had already grown to love the way he dressed.

“Okay, let’s go!” Armin grinned, trying so desperately to seem happy. He had never been fully happy his entire life, it was always gnawing away at the back of his mind. It’s why it had been so hard to make friends. He never even stood the chance of having a lover; how could he when he was already in love with someone?

“Going out with wet hair?” Eren ruffled his hair, mussing his bangs.

Armin pouted, slapping his hand away and brushing his bangs back down. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” Eren shook his head, wrapping a blue scarf around Armin’s neck and grabbing the blond’s white pea coat as they left.

It hadn’t taken long to walk to the Winter Solstice festival. They lived in the apartments not far from town square. The fountain had been turned off for the winter, instead the city’s inhabitants had wrapped it in white Christmas lights, draping them from the highest point of the fountain to the lamps that lined the square.

Flurries fell from the sky, but with all the people it didn’t seem that cold. Armin couldn’t help but smile at the festivities. He had loved the winter solstice ever since he was a kid, all three of them had. There were tents lining the square, booths set up selling hot pastries, cotton candy, hot chocolate, coffee, and other warm sweets.

Eren had disappeared, returning with a funnel cake for Armin, and, of course, a paper bag full of churros. They were his favorite.

Armin had barely finished his sweet, wiping the powdered sugar that dusted his palms from his hands, when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Armin! Eren!” A raven-haired woman dashed over to them, pulling them both into a tight hug. Armin was never quite sure how she came out so beautiful and different – the asian descent of her mother clear in her skin tone, dark eyes, and her long, straight black hair. The orphanage had told their adoptive parents that her mother had died in childbirth, whereas Armin looked more like his father, Eren looking like the twins’ mother.

She didn’t hang around long, laughing as she hopped off to find her significant other and promising to come back and find them later. Armin hadn’t missed the ring on her third finger, a ring she didn’t have the last time he saw her. He’d have to ask her about it later.

Instead he followed after Eren. They stopped in a few booths, looking at the different renaissance and pagan charms and jewelry. There was a set of wooden wings that he couldn’t pass up, hanging the small medallion around Eren’s neck for safe-keeping. The brunet bounced impatiently and it didn’t take Armin long to figure out exactly where he was leading him, not with the way he kept checking his phone.

Eventually they ‘just happened’ to run into a short angry man with dark hair that huddled into a black milford coat and constantly grumbled about ‘people’ and ‘cold.’

The first time Armin had met him he had the same annoyed expression, leaning against a wall in an art gallery and pretending not to be at all excited. It had been his gallery after all. With the help of the eccentric, bouncing brunette with glasses – which Armin later learned was his older sister – he had managed to get a night for his art just before he turned thirty.

Armin had dragged Eren to it, having seen some of the art in previews. Levi specialized in traditional mediums, painting mostly, and his work should most certainly have come with a gore trigger warning. There, in vivid detail, were paintings of the monsters that haunted his dreams, the friends he thought he’d forgotten, and depictions he tried not to remember of how they died. The art was a massacre. Beautiful, and cruel.

It had taken every ounce of courage he had, steeling himself as he approached the artist. He hadn’t remembered him or his sister until he saw them, all of it flooding back. It had been triggering and pushed him to the point that he passed out completely. Apparently it had caused enough of a ruckus that they had to shut down the gallery a few hours early, which he profusely apologized for every chance he got after that.

Eren had apparently recognized something in Levi – his strong shoulders, Armin thought, with the way his hands twitched to touch him. Or maybe it was everything. The blond had been terrified of how it’d sound, but he took the chance for his brother and explained everything to Levi. His dreams, the way he knew the paintings and what they meant, that he had been their captain. Everything.

The dark haired man had only shook his head when Eren had practically begged if he remembered. He said he didn’t, but there was a hurt in his eyes that Armin knew, and he knew he was lying. He never told his brother the truth, because he never needed to. Even if he pretended not to remember, he gave Eren a chance.

They became friends, Levi refusing anything more for almost a year until Eren turned eighteen. Then they were more. They were happy, and it warmed Armin in a way he couldn’t explain. And left him with a heart-wrenching jealousy that he’d never admit to.

“You okay, blondie?”

Armin jolted out of his thoughts, chest tight and arms restless, feet fighting the urge to shift and run the hell away.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” He smiled down at the man who he knew could see through him in the same way he did that first day. “Just a little lost in thought.”

Levi nodded, turning back to Eren and slipping his hand around his waist. It had always surprised Armin how openly affectionate they were. Maybe it was their way of making up for having to hide it so much in the past. Or maybe Levi was desperately trying to compensate for his memories. It hadn’t been difficult for Armin to piece together what he remembered, what he had done. It had always been his promise to Eren, after all, from the very beginning.

_Jean!_

_I’ll find you._

Armin gasped, his vision swirling and pupils blown. The dreams had turned to visions and the visions had only gotten more frequent, and stronger than he ever thought possible. It went from seeing them to feeling like he was living it again. And it always left him with his toes over the edge. And always left him alone, afraid to tell anyone how often it would happen, afraid that they’d put him back on the medicine.

His breath caught in his throat, deep, heavy gasps that burned as they went down and choked in his lungs that refused to work like they were supposed to. His skin burned and he could feel it grow clammy as his hands trembled and his vision swam. His stomach clenched and threatened to empty, tears burning at his eyes from the pure effort of just trying to remember how to breathe.

He desperately pushed out of his coat, throwing it to the ground and pulling his hands to cup over his mouth, gasping into them in a feeble attempt to calm himself. It didn’t help – it never did. It was a piss-poor distraction as he waited through the attack that seemed to claw desperately at every ounce of skin. He’d gladly rip his flesh from his body and give it to the monster if it meant he stopped feeling this overwhelming _everything_. Burning and tingling and cold and hunger and nausea and the deafening silence as those voices screamed in his ears.

Eren’s hand reached out to him, and the heat was unbearable. He pushed away from him, pushed away from everyone, desperately seeking a refuge. He heard Eren yell for him, sounds muffled as the anxiety pooled in his ears. He thought he saw Levi grab him and shake his head; maybe he knew.

People were staring at him, glaring at him for stumbling into them, pushing past them. He couldn’t blame them really, they probably assumed he was drunk. He didn’t give a damn. He just wanted them all to stop, to leave, to just let him be and make the suffering end.

He found himself in an isolated area, just outside the festivities. His hand pressed desperately against the rough, cold brick wall. It was soothing, an anchor to this world. He couldn’t stop the memories, couldn’t stop hearing it, seeing it. He had felt this before and knew where it was going. His body ached and his stomach clenched, throat tightening as an ugly sound pushed from his lips as his body retched, nothing coming up.

His chest heaved, his breathing loud in his ears and he could feel his shoulders shaking. It hurt. Everything hurt so badly. His body burned, blood boiling under his skin and his mind reeled as it desperately tried to cling to anything that was real. Anything that was now. His eyes refused to focus and his memory faltered, leaving him with nothing to cling to but those soft, desperate words that echoed over and over in his mind.

_I’ll find you._

His world spun and his lungs refused to work and he could feel the darkness closing in, threatening to devour him and pull him under. He just wanted it to end. He wanted for forget. To stop hurting. He just wanted to darkness to take him and to make everything stop.

“Hey—”

Armin’s eyes snapped open at the voice. It was so familiar and clear and warm, just the sound of it clearing his mind and leaving him almost tranquil.

“Are you okay?”

He shivered at the warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes slowly moved to those fingers, those strong hands he could never forget. Turning, his vision swam as his eyes met golden hawk eyes he had dreamt about for as long as he could remember.

“Jean...”


End file.
